


We've got tonight

by poop_face



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Deachy - Freeform, Dean Smith - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 03:24:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5232101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poop_face/pseuds/poop_face
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corporate life can be stressful, thankfully Dean Smith has something to hold him up and come back home to... or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We've got tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SupernaturallyConfused](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturallyConfused/gifts).



He heard her steps on the wooden floor, then on the carpet before the knock on the door.His hands frozen mid-air to the medicine cabinet.  
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, head cocked to the side, leaning against the door frame. Dean Smith glared at her reflection in the mirror door, his hand now gripping the handle hard enough to make his knuckles turn white. Something muttering under his breath.  
Stepping inside the bathroom she snaps her fingers beside his face, “sorry, didn’t quite catch that.”  
He spins around and gets right in her face so fast it gives both of them a whiplash. “PILLS! MY PILLS!” he screams, “that clear enough for you?”  
Still a little startled, she snaps her mouth shut and whispers under her breath, “those aren’t good for you, man.. They fuck you up real bad.” She tentatively takes a step back, trying to get some space between them, but still feeling trapped.  
“Aren’t good for me or you, Peachy? They are prescription. Legit. I am supposed to be taking them. What are you so scared of?” still louder than necessary, “disappearing?”  
She looks honestly perplexed and for a moment he can't help but stare at her lips, falling open and spluttering nonsensical syllables while her eyebrows scrunch up and her eyes pierce a hole into his soul. “The hell are you talking about?!”  
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve tried to keep me in this rut a million times before! All those.. those personal secretary responsibilities and all the things you do so perfectly. As if you know me inside out. Well, not anymore!” he walks towards her, pushing her out of the bathroom, across the bedroom and against the wall.  
She stands there, pinned across the wall, an eyebrow cocked, “you are accusing me of doing my job right?” Peachy huffs a laugh and tries to move under the pressure of Dean’s arms. Her eyes searching for a few seconds before widening the size of saucers, “holy shit! No way!” She swats at his arms, freeing herself from his grip. “You think I'm not real! You think I’m one of those fake realities you have!” She vaguely gestures at her head.  
“Am I wrong?” Dean goes back towards her, trapping her between the wall and himself. “Yes,” she breathes, their faces too close, sharing a breath. She looks at him, her face bleeding desperation, “of course I’m real, you know that.. I took your dog for a walk today morning with you, we went to work together, shared dinner. I stay here. With you.” her voice breaking at the end as she clutched the front of his shirt, needing physical contact of any kind.  
He brings their faces even closer, their lips barely touching, “then prove it! Prove it that you’re real. Show me that I can touch you, that I can feel you.” Peachy slightly blows on his lips and makes the final move forward crashing her lips into his. It is intense and messy and exactly how it is supposed to be. Both of them fighting for control, trying to come even closer somehow.  
He sucks hard on her bottom lip once as she smoothly slides her tongue into his mouth, tasting, mapping, trying to catalogue everything about him. She can taste some cinnamon underneath the mint and a heavier taste that’s all Dean.  
He is too mesmerized, engulfed in her warm scent and taste of vanilla that he almost misses her sliding her hands up his front, reaching the buttons of his shirt, gracefully undoing them one after the other. Hands, then, sliding under the shirt, pushing it off over the shoulders, then coming back down to make him make that keening sound at the teasing of his already hardening nipples. Not wanting to waste anymore time, he turns them around, walking them together towards the bed and flopping Peachy down on it and climbing in after her. He glides her T-shirt over her head and chucks it in a corner, regretting not making more of a show of it. He reaches behind her to unhook the bra while working his mouth on her pulse point which is going nuts at the moment.  
She stops him just in time and turns them around so that he is on his back and she is on top of him. As she starts sliding down lower, his breath hitches at the prospects of her actions. She kisses a trail beelining to his dick which is already hard and leaking precum. She promptly puts her lips on its head and sucks. His back arches off the bed and the sensation and he has to fight so hard to breathe. He looks down just in time to watch him dissappearing under her lips as she takes him as far in as she can, wrapping the rest of the length with her hands. She simultaneously sucks and hums around Dean as he hits the back of her throat.  
“Peachy.. I.. I can’t.. I’m gonna... Almost..” is what Dean manages to sputter in a strained voice as he taps her on the shoulder. She stops. Pulls off of him with a pop and comes back up to him kissing him on the mouth while one hand blindly searches in the bedside drawer coming up with a foil packet which she rips off with her teeth. When Dean tries to get up, she pushes him back down. She holds the rubber between her lips and holds them around Dean. Then, pushing in on him as far as she can and rolling out the rest of it with he fingers, she comes off of him.  
Peachy looks up to see Dean’s deep, green eyes locked on her. She climbs her way upto him and kisses him hard to hide the blush creeping on her face. Completely into the passionate kiss, she hardly notices Dean’s hands as they move over her sides, onto her hips and then, under her. His long, graceful fingers slowly move around her hole, giving the slightest hint of entrance. Gradually pushing one finger further in with every move, he continues till he is knuckle deep in her. He pulls back almost all the way and then adds another finger, scissoring her open.He adds another finger still working to get her ready for him.  
He pulls out of her, gaining her grumble which is promptly obscured by kissing her deeply. He moves his hand over her thighs to hold her at her waist and angles her over his hips as she straddles him. Then, very slowly she lowers in over him, both their breaths hitching at the exact moment. They stay like that for a while, letting her get used to him. With a deep breath, Peachy starts grinding and Dean is not too slow to pick up the pace and move in perfect sync with her. Peachy bends over to get closer, in the process doing something that has the both of them gripping on for dear life. This breaks any self control they had and their sensual, languid movements turn into bold, passionate thrusts. They keep at it completely focused, their worlds narrowing down to the room, the bed, to them. Dean can practically feel the heat generating off of them. All his mind can grasp right now is their movements, the tingling of skin wherever hers touches his, the proximity of her face from his and how bloody dirtybadsoverywrong this is. He tries to make an effort at rationality but is overtaken by the sensation of being entirely wrapped in hot, tight Peachy. He turns them over so that she is on her back and thrusts harder. It goes on for a while, their movement getting faster and harsher, hands clasping, moans mingling, lips and teeth crashing to get a kiss in the chaos. Finally, Peachy falls over the edge with a bite to Dean’s shoulder, which does it for him too.  
Dean falls back on his side, carefully pulling out of Peachy, wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close to him. As she runs her fingers ever so gently over his freckles, looking deep into his eyes, he knows he has to do the right thing, even though he can’t think of a single reason why. She pushes her hair back from her face, cups her cheek and places a chaste kiss on her forehead as she drifts off to sleep. He slides out of the bed without disturbing her and goes to the bathroom, stepping over the trail of their clothes from the wall to the bed. He ties off the condom and throws it in the trash. He continues to clean himself off and then, splashes some water on his face. He stares at his reflection in the mirror for a few moments before filling up a glass with water and opening the cabinet. He takes the little orange bottle and turns it around in his hand, once, twice, and then pops open the lid and swallows down two pills. He keeps everything back in place, looking at himself one last time. He did what had to be done.  
He thinks of all the things he will miss about her, all the little things that will make it harder for him to go through alone once he wakes up. He crawls back into the bed behind her and pulls her into him and wraps one arm around her. He shifts closer, burying his face in her hair, inhaling everthing he can of Peachy to make sure she stays atleast in his mind. He hugs her once more before drifting off with her on his mind.  
***  
Dean woke up because of the sunlight coming in from the open window across the room and the cool draft hitting his bare body. He turns in his spot, gliding his hand around the bed but coming up with nothing but sheets. He blinks open his eyes as he sits up and looks around the room. Exactly same as last night, except for that trail of clothes, which are only his. He swings his legs off of the bed and rests his elbows over his knees. He rubs his face in his palms, trying to hold back the tears. He takes a deep breath, straightens his back, mentally prepping himself for the day to follow. He rocks up on his feet and pads to the bathroom.  
As the bathroom door shuts, a tiny piece of paper innocently lies ignored on the bedside table; a handwritten note with a promise of breakfast, signed, Peachy xo.


End file.
